I could bear the memory, but I could not bear the music that made the memory such a killing thing.
PAT CONROYMy soul found ease and rest in the companionship of books.
More Pat Conroy Quotes
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Man wonders but God decides When to kill the Prince of Tides.
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Here is all I ask of a book- give me everything. Everything, and don’t leave out a single word.
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Without music, life is a journey through a desert.
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There are no ideas in the South, just barbecue.
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I do not have any other way of saying it. I think it happens but once and only to the very young when it feels like your skin could ignite at the mere touch of another person. You get to love like that but once.
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I was born and raised on a Carolina sea island and I carried the sunshine of the low-country, inked in dark gold, on my back and shoulders.
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My wound is geography. It is also my anchorage, my port of call.
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Good writing … involves the agony of turning profoundly difficult thoughts into lucid form, then forcing them into the tight-fitting uniform of language, making them visible and clear.
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I loved my parents… but that can never change the fact that my father’s violence ruined my childhood.
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When mom and dad went to war the only prisoners they took were the children
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Political correctness has a stranglehold on academia, on feminism, and on the media. It is a form of both madness and maggotry, and has already silenced the voices of writers like James Dicky across the land.
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One can learn anything, anything at all, I thought, if provided by a gifted and passionate teacher.
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Why do they not teach you that time is a finger snap and an eye blink, and that you should not allow a moment to pass you by without taking joyous, ecstatic note of it, not wasting a single moment of its swift, breakneck circuit?
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But even her demons she invested with inordinate beauty, consecrated them with the dignity of her attention.
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My mother, Southern to the bone, once told me, “All Southern literature can be summed up in these words: ‘On the night the hogs ate Willie, Mama died when she heard what Daddy did to Sister.’” She raised me up to be a Southern writer, but it wasn’t easy.
PAT CONROY